About Life
by Tsukitsu
Summary: AU. Misaki, a broken teen, now trails on a new life as he meets with Akihiko, who slowly made his childhood memories begin to haunt him again. As then lots of things begin to reveal, would they keep on together with the unforgettable pasts interfere?


AN: Hello there, everyone! Rei is here, and I'm really pleased as you have clicked the button to our first debut fan-fiction. Much thanks to you all! And well, as I've said the word 'our'_—_you can assure yourself that this fan-fiction is actually built, made, written, etc., by two authors. Me; (with penname **_kiyarei_**, aka Rei,) and **_Rika Toshiro_** (you can find her around here_—_she already published a Junjou fic titled "_Night before the Day_"!). You can know more about us by seeing on our profile page.

Back again - so here it is, the prologue of our first series titled "_About Life_" which is the first part of our **Butterfly Arc**. For this one, the author is me - and Rika is the co-author. The beta credits go to _ShounenaiFangirl_. Other mistakes must be made by us.

Okay, then. The a/n in the next chapter would take care by Rika, so, farewell for now - until then, and have a nice reading!

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**_—Prologue_**

**_

* * *

_**

That room was drowned in deep silence from interference of any noisiness—different from what usually happened by other sides of the wall of other apartment—as there was only one of the two main inhabitants who was currently in there.

The contrast had seen clear at where that one person was inside, as there was only one white neon light in the simple dining room, partitioned to the kitchen next to it which was on. The glow appeared, lighted of the figure under it to the shadow created.

With the actual degrees which slightly below the normal rate, that illumination was felt enough for being as a thin shelter from the periodically blowing cold breeze; even trough the closed windows. After all, it was quite late of an autumn night, when the views behind the closed curtains of that room, were brushed with shade of brown; classic and elegant with its strong felt wind, as ones characteristics of the season before later swept by wintry wings.

While sometimes sounds of barks from the dogs in dark alleys between buildings, and burrs from passing cars trough the emptying street, Takahashi Misaki was the figure who seated on one chair, in that lonely dining room, leaving the other of dining table set empty, quietly, as he kept in tracks of concentrating to the scatter of papers and opened thick books in front of him.

A pen that was held by his left hand subconsciously wound as the gesture to help him relax a little, stretching some of sore muscles from hours passed—he kept in the same position.

Frowns would dance at his forehead sometimes, when he found difficulties from neither words nor numbers in front of him—and usually it won't disappear, until the teen released another heavy sigh—and wrote down the answer as best as he could manage.

But it was not also seldom for then, as the emerald orbs rolled to check on the words all over again; he then would just end up crumpling the papers and throw them to the trash basket—just beside his bare feet. The realization—no, _conclusion_, was always the same in each time it happened; Misaki knew that what his pen had scraped on the paper was just mostly…_nonsense_ at all.

And there he was, until now, as the steady ticks from the clock on a side of wall, had made the pointers showed the time of about nearly midnight—those gestures replayed all over again and again. Numerous crumples of the papers had thrown and wasted, with the writer himself left with tired limbs and sore muscles, from having himself studying all over with _forces_.

Until as when, he was still stuck by only through the _middle_ of those questions; it was _enough_.

Misaki stopped his actually; magnificent jade eyes which now were already dimmed of tiredness and stress. Closing it tight, his hand dropped the pen back onto the table carelessly, before leaning to rub his pounding head.

The headache was one little cause he got, as if he stayed over night like this, to study, and always would mean to warn him—that he would not take this any further—that was if he didn't want to help himself to get quicker into another new round of sickness.

It was just—_somehow_, felt like those symbols on the white papers, were mocking—_challenging_ him to understand the unreached meaning behind it, and as of a duty for himself to memorize it for the later exams.

Misaki was just pretty tired of it all, yes, the more he pierced his bloodshot eyes from being up till this late, the more he couldn't concentrate—or maybe even only to think of anything else between the silent torture of that dammit headache.

It was making him exhausted, yet to be pulled himself deeper into the space, the corner within his mind, maybe his heart so, where there was only darkness by every inch—a part within him where there he would blame himself, like now, for being such an… _idiot_.

'_-I **am** an idiot,'_

Misaki groaned in desperate. Thought by thought begun to race and take over the authority of his own mind, for then as he slowly lose the tracks to control himself for not recalling of the hurtful memories. Nevertheless, the teen dug again of the enclosed grave where he buried those… experiences.

His eyes were closed. Somehow the nerves won't obey his command to just open the heavy lids to just go back to the study again. But the headache didn't make anything better by the same time. Wincing slightly in pain, the brunette's mind wandered, far away…

.

_Words spoken all over too clear by each syllables_, repeating again and again like a sound shouted to the endless cliff so they were echoing without even bothering to stop for a while so he could take a break from those torturous voices.

He knew it pretty well—much from the endless sentences that cruelly spoken by people with taller and scary figures surrounded him like wolves watching their prey, candidly or not, about how because of his own low charisma, as he won't really can compete like what other normal people did.

_Wasn't it just so shameful?_ He couldn't really even understand about the lectures from the teachers, couldn't concentrate when it comes to working on something like homework. He just couldn't-

_-understand._

_The sickening smells of alcohol came from the mouth… _

"_-That's your entire fault!"_

Yes, they all were his fault, his and his alone. Not his brother's, nor his mother's, neither… that man's fault.

_That's my entire fault._

Maybe he should have just listened to _that man_'s talk before. He couldn't ever be like other, normal people, because he would never make it. Not in 5, 10, 15, or 20 years or more. He would never be a normal person.

_Never…_

.

The youth closed his eyes tightly as he buried his fingers, his hands, grasped into the soft brown locks of his hair for then nailed there. Slumped within his wooden chair, he silently cursed himself from not even understanding, understanding what those words in the book meant for him.

_If his older brother could just stay at home and help him study…_

Quickly, he shook his head and tried to erase away that thought, but then his sudden movements only make the pain worsen. He let another sigh and groan escaped his lips, as he leaned back his almost felt like heavy head on the table, using his crossed hands as the pillow; make sure they were comfortable enough.

Maybe he should take one or two painkillers for his headache later.

He had promised himself to not ever put more burdens onto the shoulder of his one and only sibling. His brother had taken care of him since a pretty long time and had kindly worked for them both to live on, even as now he had to often take the overtime work-shifts to add more benefit beside of his own part-time work payment, in case for financing the few left bills about his college continuation, so…-

_-he should not bother him more._

Once a while, when Misaki woke at a night, he would not go to sleep again either so quickly or peacefully. It had been a small routine he had made for himself since he was a child, since he didn't have anyone else to share about the endless nightmare, since the bruises began to carve on his frail figure; to silently tip-toe like the beautiful butterfly he often saw once escaped from the home with Takahiro – his invisible wings brought him as silently as possible without touching the cold floor, to peek from behind of the too-big door of his chamber, to see the figure of his brother at the living room across him.

Takahiro's back from his usual seeking spot had always seemed big, making the young Misaki – until now of a teenager Misaki – feel quite guilty enough for having known about the fact that his older sibling always spent all night to finish all work as soon as possible to gain more profits.

But the sight of Takahiro's shadowed back also made him felt reassured. Reassured on how; he was there, under the same roof, even in the same apartment. Only few meters across where he slept, in fact.

Now… as he was seating on the usual chair of Takahiro's, he was alone, trapped and frustrated.

For the next few minutes, the youth stayed still; burying his face on his crossed arms on the pillow on the table, not really caring about the fact of the sounds of rustles he made – causing the paper to crumple more. But as the heavy eyelids now slowly opened, showing once more the pair of tired eyes behind it – he slowly straightened his seating again for then reaching for the pen and beginning to gather concentration in analyzing, sentence by sentence with a little too low desire to study anymore.

Soft echoes now from the ticks of clock were like a rhythm for him to stay awake.

_Just a little more, _

At least, if he were to finish up the current paper and try to write anything he understood, he would be done with the half of the main material for tomorrow's exams.

_And then he would finally let himself sleep in the warmth and puffiness of his bed's mattress- _

Suddenly, the sound of another thicker tick came, approached his ears to alarm him about another presence's coming just right away.

Misaki jolted, straight seated again as he knew that the cause of the sound was someone that inserted the key of the door.

It must be his brother, who was finally come home.

Though at first, Misaki only thought for later asked him about some helps – a second later, he reminded himself very hard to think about other people's feeling. Takahiro should be really tired from returning this late, not to mention that if later he still wanted to continue working again at home.

For now… maybe Misaki should just welcome him home and maybe serve him drink; hot tea or maybe coffee like what his brother usually preferred-

"-Hey, Takahiro-"

By a leap of a second, his eyes widened to hear another different sound, which clearly was not of his brother's voice, come vaguely from behind the door as he weakly approached it to say the greetings. Frozen by his current spot, he stayed like that until the door across him now opened.

"-yes, I have a younger brother, remember? He's- oh! I'm home, Misaki!"

There were them. The figure of his brother came, still wearing the same formal suite like when he left last morning – by the different train they used to go for each destination to start the day – though Misaki could see little ruffles from the long day here and there.

_And…_

Beside him, there was an unfamiliar form; a middle-aged man who wore the same-toned suite – just with the difference of him, that new man, wearing a vest instead of coat – which currently he held.

First of ever, the things Misaki caught the glimpse glance were about the pair of mesmerizing violet eyes, sharp but with delicate tone which somehow shimmered with strange aura.

One of his arms clung quite intimately onto his older sibling's shoulder, with a stick of cigarette between his lips.

Those two newly met people just stared for each other in periods; maybe minutes, or even only seconds – none of them could count, with the strange feeling froze them by on each spot.

Takahiro – trapped between the sudden tensed air, quickly broke the silence with a slight groggy tone, "M-Misaki, this is my old friend; Akihiko Usami, remember? Who usually…visited_ us_?" He managed to curve on a smile, though it was a fake one, since surely he did quite concerned on the matter of fact as Misaki's expression was none like usual what he saw.

Mildly…_ blank_. Or would he say it frightened—with the glint that hinting slight fear, seemed across the bloodshot eyes there? _No_, Takahiro assured himself.

Misaki was not really a type of someone who can ever afraid by just a skip of second—when firstly met foreign people.

_But…, that expression… _

Takahiro felt couldn't swallow the lump within his throat, as a slight remembrance came on his thoughts.

_Never showed since- _

Emerald still locked with violet, like competing on which was more mesmerizing, more locking and challenging… or even maybe which ones could affect the other the most.

Maybe as the hourglass' granules seemed to stop, hung in the air to against the universe's law—as those eyes and souls met for the very first time—none of them still could count of the time.

But at last, as Misaki snapped from the sinking thoughts of his own—he silently jerked before broke their contacts to meet the other eyes of onyxes—which were his brother's, least to feel a little guilty as he found the pretty hated tone; concern; marked clearly on his dear sibling's expression. Though still, his voice was a little shaky, but then he replied.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, niichan. I don't quite remember him."

He drifted his sight onto the floor, staring at the familiar line of woods- maybe also while pressing the previous happens' lingering memories by thinking about something else… maybe about a small nostalgic moment as he kept staring to the floor.

The now; clean and already polished floor, which was completely different from the floor of that place, far away, with so much sickening stuff scattered, disgusting smells of rotten meals-

But still, he could feel the sharp gaze still eyeing him; felt like penetrating through the barrier, which he had settled to protect of what things that would only keep for himself. _Surely not to anyone else._

Disturbing, yes, like being naked in front of a new person whom he hadn't ever met before, but, what could he say? Previously so, as they two were sharing such long eye contacts to each other, without any necessary reason since it was, only the first few seconds since they met.

It already had been of a culture for him, which it's disrespectful to stare directly into people's eyes for too long—like you're challenging them.

_Maybe later niichan would be a little… mad. _

Besides of those, Misaki personally, also didn't like about the matter of how his brother would share such close contact with a 'stranger'-

_-oh, what was his name again? Right-_

_Akihiko Usami. _

Still, the worst part—as Misaki slightly sniffed and tried his best to prevent to cough—was about the new smells spread between the mild scent of home-ness which silently Misaki adored the most; of tobaccos.

This man was a smoker, indeed.

For a second it felt like nostalgic—he sunk for a while into the flow of short flashback with this familiar, but yet sickening scent to the period that he didn't want to remember.

'…_Relax, Misaki.'_

Sucked by his breathe for a moment—avoiding the coming cough, he drifted back.

It was just…the _past_. Already passed.

_And never would happen again. _

Now he was _here_. The resemblance of _that _man with _this _one, who was standing before him, was just of their habit of heavy smoker. He wasn't near _him_ anymore; this wasn't a nightmare.

Still, he couldn't kick him out of the building just because of smoke; he has been seeing that toxic small thing since he even couldn't remember, so he's quite familiar with it.

And plus, he's his brother's friend, and Takahiro wouldn't be pleased about his thought, so he quickly shook them out of his brain.

"Ahaha… Don't mind about that. Usagi, will you wait here for a moment— and feel free to watch the TV or grab the snacks—I need to talk to Misaki for a while."

The silver haired man nodded, while the eyes never left the figure beside of Takahiro until as the siblings disappeared from his views, walking upstairs—probably towards the room which could fit them of more privacy.

Akihiko , aka Usagi by Takahiro, let a sigh escaped from his mouth, before then seated himself on the couch. He decided not to turn on the TV as Takahiro suggested before; he had more important things that should be thought and done at the moment.

Akihiko subconsciously wandered trough the past moments he had. The man still couldn't let himself to forget of what sight that had reached into his eyes for the very first time—the sight of something unforgettable which he knew it; was rare enough to happen, and that's one of those things that bugging his mind.

Pair of unique emerald orbs he had never seen before. As from lots of life experience he had, through of his own daily routines to memorize and loose the strings of any events he faced, he knew that eyes were windows to through pass the soul; the whatever inside of a person—personality, in his vocabulary.

So as since the first time he sighted the different eyes; especially in the case of these ones which were unique enough to plaster at his very own mind's memory, nothing seemed was interesting enough to erase the sensation he felt, even of the fact that now he was meeting with his beloved old-friend again.

This was the first time he had lost the usual flowing words to be said; he couldn't think about the best way to describe the eyes of the teen.

Sad? Lonely? Pessimist? All of those are only small pieces of what built of the mesmerizing orbs. Maybe… lifeless too, as one part that dominated the reflection of that boy's soul he saw there.

They shone nothing but only pain and hurt auras. Tickling him to the very heart, of the sense there to see the things hidden behind the tall wall of what secrets that boy could have.

Yes, there was a wall. Wall that wasn't too big, but strong enough to not letting him through it. They were hard to break, but once he found the way to, it'll be crushed in no time.

Akihiko subconsciously curved of a victorious smile. As once he was interested in this boy, by now he _would_ break the wall; he was determined to do that.

At least, if Misaki didn't take Takahiro's offer to have him as the teen's tutor, as of what they had talked about, before, then he'll find another way to get close to him, he was sure.

'_Misaki Takahashi, huh?'_

.

Their tale would begin here.

.


End file.
